Join The Mile High Club, Honey
by c0ppertone
Summary: In which skittles are devoured, facts are realised, and a plane's bathroom is defiled. This is smut - you have been warned. MCR slash fic; Ray/Mikey.


**Join The Mile High Club, Honey.**

**Pairing: **Rikey (Ray Toro/Mikey Way, or in this case Ray Toro/Mikey Toro)  
><strong>Age Rating: <strong>NC-17  
>Based on a Tinychat RP (again).<p>

**Notes: **_This is why I should __**not**__ be allowed an internet connection, nor Microsoft Word, nor a laptop, nor the right to stay up past 1am, nor the right to exist in general. Enjoy it if you can~_

* * *

><p>Mikey still couldn't believe they were actually <em>doing <em>this. He'd thought it was way too late to have a honeymoon – after all, they'd got married a month ago and hadn't bothered to think about one, let alone book and go on one.

It was all down to pure luck and coincidence that they were even here, to be honest. It'd crossed Mikey's mind earlier that day that they'd skipped the 'honeymoon phase', as he'd been told it was called, and before he knew it, he and Ray had agreed to leave _right there and then_ and get tickets for the next flight to anywhere, no matter where they'd end up. After all, did it really matter where they went? They were in love, and that meant they'd be fine wherever they went... they had each other.

Well, it just so happened that these tickets were taking them to Tuscany, Italy. First class, too. Ray said it was good luck, and Mikey thought so as well.

So here they were, sat on a pretty quiet flight in a sort of comfortable silence, their hands linked in the middle of the two seats. With his free hand, Mikey munched on a bag of skittles he'd bought from one of the generic little airport shops – the first of many, seeing as he'd bought a shit ton of the sweets.

Ray, in full on ninja-mode, assumed Mikey was daydreaming from the way he stared blankly out of the window and dove in for the kill, managing to swipe a couple of skittles from right under his nose.

_Success._

The bassist was NOT impressed by this bullshit. He clutched the bag of poor, violated skittles to his chest and shot his husband a glare that could kill a thousand ordinary men. "Leave my babies alone, you fiend!" He hissed.

Ray just shot him a look of fake sadness, which was something that caught Mikey off-guard every time. The poor guy had always been sensitive and overly-apologetic, and even mock-emotion could get him to change his mind.

Looks like he'd fallen for it this time, too.

"... Okay, honey, you can have some skittles." He placed his 'poor babies' down gently on Ray's lap, already reaching for another two packets to make up for his loss.

As he watched Mikey search for his beloved sweets, it finally dawned on Ray – he and Mikey were going on a honeymoon. A fucking _honeymoon._

_Holy shit._

He couldn't contain himself anymore. Ray Toro, a fully grown, 'manly' man squeaked embarrassingly on a public flight, flailing around and almost knocking the skittles from his lap in the process.

"Woah, hey!" said Mikey, frantically checking that his husband hadn't made a mess. "Calm down, Ray – what's all the fuss about?"

"Mikey, honey: we're going on a _honeymoon._"

"That we are!" he giggled softly, with that dorkishly adorable grin on his face. "It's gonna be so much fun..."

"And you do realise what that means, right...?"

Mikey was pretty sure he had no idea what Ray was talking about... he didn't really know much about honeymoons, the innocent soul. The extent of his 'knowledge' was that they were holidays that married couples had just after their wedding. That was all he knew; nothing more, nothing less.

"Umm... no. Enlighten me?"

Somehow, this didn't surprise Ray at all. His husband was still pretty dense when it came to anything relationship-wise (even if he _was _a beast in bed).

"Well then..." he muttered, sneakily leaning in to nibble on Mikey's earlobe. "I'm just going to have to teach you, aren't I?"

Something clicked in Mikey's mind at that point.

"You mean...?" he trailed off as the cogs in his brain began to turn and spit out all sorts of scenarios. "Oh my."

Ray just snickered and left Mikey to think about all the "fun" they'd have, taking a moment to check out his surroundings. Weird. The plane seemed to be pretty empty, even after they'd bought tickets at the last minute. He could only see a handful of other passengers, and most of them were either asleep or otherwise preoccupied.

The man with a plan had a _brilliant _idea.

"Hey, Mikey... don'tcha think this plane's a little, I don't know, empty?"

"E-ehh?" The blonde snapped out of his little bout of daydreaming and took a glance around for himself. "Actually, now you mention it... it is a bit quiet, isn't it? That's pretty odd."

"Well, I may just have to take advantage of that..." Without warning, he leant over and kissed Mikey roughly. Mikey squealed a little and kissed him back, before pulling away, breathless and a little confused.

"W-wait, what? On a plane...?"

_Time for a little life lesson, sweetheart... _

"Ever heard of the Mile High Club?" Ray smirked; he already knew _exactly _where this conversation was going.

"Ummm, no?" Well, in all honesty, Mikey was lying. He had _heard _of it (or rather, he'd overheard Frank and Gerard talking about... joining it), but he didn't have a fucking clue what it meant.

Making sure no one was looking, Ray dived forward and bit down hard on Mikey's neck, waiting until he hissed in pleasure and pain before he pulled away again.

"Well, we're a mile high now, right?"

Mikey nodded. That made sense.

"Y'see, the Mile High Club..." he began to lean forward again slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Mikey's, "Is when people on planes..."

His voice dropped to a low whisper, husky and promising. "... go into the bathroom, and _fuck._"

Mikey just blinked, letting the idea sink in. "Holy shit... w-wow, we can do that?" Ray nuzzled against his jawline affectionately, breathing out a quiet "mmm-hmmm" and hoping his husband would go along with it.

"But... what if people hear us?" He bit his lip, wondering what the consequences could be, what could go wrong, what people would think. That was Mikey's problem, really – he over thought everything, he read too much into things... he was always concerned about what could happen to him and the people he loved. As adorable as that was, it sometimes stopped him from getting the most out of the opportunities he was given. A shame, really.

But Ray knew what he was doing, and his smirk grew wider. "Well, you'll just have to be quiet then, won't you?"

_Hook, line and sinker._

Mikey just nodded quickly, suddenly feeling speechless and a little bit light-headed. The fro didn't need any more confirmation than that. Taking a look around, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, gesturing for Mikey to do the same. "Come on. I think we're good to go."

The bassist did as he was told and stood up too, taking hold of Ray's hand and letting himself be dragged through to the cramped room that passed as a ' bathroom', watching as the door was locked behind him.

_It's go time..._

Ray turned around to face his husband, who looked like a deer in the headlights. "Hello."

"H-hi, honey..." he was wide-eyed, blushing like a tomato and just a _little _bit nervous. Just a little bit. He wasn't _scared_, of course. What gave you that impression?

Placing his hands gently on Mikey's waist, Ray stepped closer, closing the already tiny gap.

"How are you?"

"J-just a little... nervous..." _Might as well be honest._

Ray blinked, a little bit confused. He'd been sure Mikey'd be up for this – had he been wrong?

"Why? You... you don't have to do this if you don't want to." He pulled his hands away, looking down dejectedly, only to have them pulled straight back a second later.

"No! I do, I really do... it's a good sort of nervous..." It was the butterflies in his stomach kind, the 'oh-shit-what-if-we-get-caught', thrilling sort of adrenaline-fuelled nervous.

Ray looked up again, feeling a bit more hopeful. "Are you sure? 'Cos I'd... understand if you don't."

"Really sure! Like I said, it's a good nervous, the best sort of nervous..." He nodded, feeling a bit more confident.

"...positive?" The guitarist wrapped his arms fully around Mikey's slight waist, pulling him even closer. He squeaked in response, but answered anyway.

"Would I lie to you?"

"No. I know you wouldn't."

"Then trust me, honey." He flashed him his best grin. Ray couldn't stop himself from pulling Mikey flat to his chest, resting their foreheads together.

"Ready to join the Mile High Club, Mr Toro?" he whispered.

"Hell yes I am, Mr Toro."

"Fantastic."

_Not a moment to lose, then._

Ray dove in and kissed Mikey passionately, biting down on his bottom lip and watching as his lover was reduced to a moaning mess in front of him. Running his hands under his shirt, he felt Mikey shiver and surrender to the touch, wrapping his arms around him shakily and dragging his nail's down Ray's back.

Ray whimpered and grinded against him, desperate to keep control. Involuntarily, Mikey bucked forward, whining at the friction while a hand slipped into his jeans to grab his ass. He whined loudly into Ray's mouth, unable to keep himself quiet. It was all _too much._

The fro pulled away slightly, grinning. "Shh now, Michael..." He bit down forcefully on his neck, fumbling with his own belt.

"Oh g-god, Ray..." he bit deeper into his lip in an attempt to stay quiet and ended up drawing blood. "I'm trying, I'm trying, it's not my fault you're so _good _at this..."

Ray had no idea how to reply to _that, _so he did the next best thing – he swiped his tongue across Mikey's swollen red lips, wiping away the pooling blood as he started tugging down the bassist's jeans.

"Wh-what are you, a fucking vampire...?" He groaned, kicking off his jeans and not giving a flying fuck where they landed.

"If that's what turns you on, honey..." he grinned wickedly and shoved him back against the stall-wall, tugging down his shirt to attack his collarbone.

Mikey tossed his head back with a loud moan, bucking upwards. He _needed _the friction. It was the only thing keeping him sane, but at the same time it was sending him **insane. **Nothing made sense anymore.

"And you called _me _a whore." Ray chuckled darkly, pressing his leg teasingly against Mikey's crotch and watching him writhe about. "You little slut."

"O-ohhhh... fuck... you..." he growled. No, nothing made sense anymore. Down was up, up was down. Right was wrong, and wrong was _so, so right._

"But baby, I think you'll find..." Ray whispered, slowly dragging the other's boxers down. Mikey shivered and whined as the cool air hit his cock.

"That I'll be the one..." he trailed off, lifting and wrapping his husband's legs around his hips and leaning forward to mutter directly into his ear: "...fucking _you._" He thrust roughly into Mikey without another word, a strangled moan escaping his lips – he was so hot, so _tight_, Ray just couldn't control himself.

"Oh Raaaaaay... fuck me, oh god, please, just..." Mikey groaned gutturally, panting with his eyes squeezed shut. It burned, it hurt, but it felt too fucking good; he could feel every part of his body crying out in ecstasy.

"Slut..." the older man hissed, his voice cracked and feral. _Never let this end, holy fuck..._

"Of course I'm a f-fucking slut, how could I _not _be for you, ohhh..." Mikey whined and tried to pull Ray closer, tried to bury his cock further inside him, if that was even possible. His nails dug hard into the guitarist's back, leaving angry red marks even through his shirt.

Ray whimpered softly at the mix of pain and pleasure the nails brought, retaliating by clamping his teeth down on the chest, thrusting harder and faster and feeling Mikey's muscles tighten around his length. "You're my fucking little slut, Way."

"Oh my god... yes, I'm all yours... fucking make me yours."

No words, just actions. Ray yanked down the collar of Mikey's shirt, ravaging the pale skin of his collar bone with his teeth – it was all getting rawer, rougher, more animalistic with each passing second.

Mikey let out a keening whine from deep in his throat, arching his back; he wanted more, _more, MORE. _"Y-yeah, like that... oh shiiiiiiiiiit..."

Grunting, Ray reached down to take hold of Mikey's rock hard and leaking cock. _Time to push all this... over the edge..._

"HOLY... oh, f-fuck, please..." he gasped at the contact, every nerve ending in his body tingling as Ray began to stroke him in time with each thrust. "Oh god, Ray, harder... fuckmefuckmefuckme..." As hard as he tried, he couldn't stay quiet – he'd turned into a moaning mess, so close to the edge it physically _hurt._

"Shhhhhhh..." He placed a finger to Mikey's lip, reprimanding him before speeding up to an insanely fast speed, snapping his hips forward. "You gonna come for me, you little bitch?"

His breath hitched in his throat – dirty talk, insults, the pain, it all turned him on to the point where it became ridiculous. "Oh g-god yes honey, anything for you, ANYTHING..." He panted. _So close, so close, so fucking close..._

"_Prove it." _The hand wrapped around him moved faster and faster, while another dug nails deep into the small of his back.

"Sh-shittttt... I motherfucking will, just wa—" He was cut off by a screaming whine as he came hard over Ray's hand, tossing his head back and seeing fucking _stars._

The sight alone was enough to send Ray over the edge with him, and he came into Mikey with a drawn out moan, biting down hard enough on his lip to draw blood – just like his husband had done earlier.

Mikey leant forward weakly to kiss him, tasting the blood on his lips and feeling accomplished. Had they really just done that, or was he just dreaming...?

High on the afterglow, Ray giggled hysterically and placed the bassist back on two feet again. "We just fucked with our shirts on!"

Funnily enough, both of their shirts were just a little messed up now – Mikey's collar was ripped where it'd been yanked downwards, Ray's had nail marks running all the way down its back, and both were... stained.

"Holy shit, we did... but what of it? F-fight the power, honey!" He giggled and grinned, but his legs began to shake, seemingly unable to support his weight. "F-fuck...!"

"Pff. You seeing stars, honey?"

Mikey's knees, awkward even on the best of days, gave out, and he collapsed to the floor. "Too fucking right... geez..."

Tugging up his jeans and boxers, Ray slid down the wall to sit down next to Mikey. "I wonder how loud that actually was."

"F-fuck knows... I tried to be quiet, but y'know..." he said this quietly as he pulled on his own jeans.

The fro had heard what he'd said perfectly clearly, though. He smirked and poked his husband in the shoulder.

"Slut."

"It's not my fault you're that good..." the blonde sighed happily, leaning on his shoulder.

Ray turned his head to kiss Mikey gently on the cheek before frowning in realisation. "Come on, we should get back to our seats soon."

"Do you think they'll notice?"

"Don't know, don't care." He grinned lazily, knowing that people probably would but not particularly caring.

Mikey snorted childishly. "They can think what they like – proud member of the Mile High Club!"

"Fuck yeah!"

Ray took Mikey's hand in his own, helping him to stand up – shakily – and leading him out of the bathroom. Together, they walked straight past the disapproving glances with wide grins on their faces...

And not a single fuck was given by the Toro's that day.

Well, okay.

Maybe one.


End file.
